


Providence

by Saucery



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adorable, Adult!Stiles, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Babysitting, Children, Cute, Ficlet, Fluff, Human!Derek, Kid Fic, Kindergarten, M/M, No Werewolves, Pining, Romance, Same Age, Slice of Life, Sweet, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is almost getting used to the sight of Derek standing like a burly, bristly mountain in the middle of a classroom, wearing a pink apron with lots of multi-colored handprints on it, arms crossed and glaring as lots of tiny tykes giggle at him and try to climb him like a tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Providence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jig-reynolds](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jig-reynolds).



> The title is from this quote by Mark Twain: “Providence protects children and idiots. I know because I have tested it.”

* * *

 

Stiles is almost getting used to the sight of Derek standing like a burly, bristly mountain in the middle of a classroom, wearing a pink apron with lots of multi-colored handprints on it, arms crossed, glaring as lots of tiny tykes giggle at him and try to climb him like a tree.

Almost. Okay, never. Stiles is never getting used to it.

Every time Stiles picks Scott up from kindergarten (he's been Scott's adoptive father ever since Scott's mom and Stiles's best friend, Melissa, passed away), he's greeted by a fresh and increasingly ludicrous scene in which the local leather-clad menace better known as Derek Hale is transformed into a living jungle-gym for the kids of the neighboorhood. A living, apron-wearing jungle-gym. That occasionally doubles as a tree-shaped prop during a Christmas play or as an overly serious guest at a teddybear tea party. (Derek's stubble is as furry as some of the stuffed bears; if it weren't for his massive size, compared to the other 'guests,' he might even kind of blend in.)

Stiles has never understood how Derek came to choose this line of work, let alone how he passed the job interview, because Derek scares the bejeezus out of most people.

But for some reason, Derek's glares only seem to work on grown-ups. It's mysterious. Kids are entirely immune.

Stiles finds that contrast hopelessly endearing. Even though he often feels a bit intimidated by Derek, too, because Derek seems to think that any human being over the age of ten is not to be trusted or tolerated, and has been known to make parents cry instead of children.

His brusque attitude with adults belies the carefulness and gentleness of his big hands when he bandages a small knee or folds origami animals with a sleepy, pigtailed child on his lap and another curled like a kitten at his side.

Stiles... is in mortal danger of losing his heart, here. Possibly, he's already lost it, and the security system he'd installed around the glass case protecting his heart simply failed to alert him, on account of being skillfully disarmed by the image of face-paint getting daubed onto Derek's nose by a bright-eyed, blue-faced Scott.

"I'm Papa Smurf," grins Scott, when he spots Stiles in the doorway. The building is otherwise empty; everyone else has left.

"Yeah?" Stiles hides a smile. "And who's Mr. Hale? Gargamel?"

Derek glowers at him, and the smile Stiles is attempting to hide breaks out, helplessly.

"Sorry," Stiles apologizes, fully aware that he doesn't sound sorry, at all, but he  _does_  sound appropriately and genuinely grateful when he says, "and thanks for looking after Scott, like this. Work ran late, and I haven't found a new daycare, yet. I really appreciate - "

"No problem," Derek says, shortly, eyebrows lowering as he wipes Scott's hands clean and all but thrusts Scott at Stiles, like he just wants Stiles to be gone. There's no trace of the patience Stiles had caught a glimpse of, earlier, during the face-painting proceedings.

"It's Scott's birthday next weekend," Stiles says, and Scott promptly does a full-body wriggle that comes dangerously close to brushing his dried-but-flaky face-paint against Stiles's office shirt.

"I know," Derek replies, just as short as before.

"Caaaake!" squeals Scott, and throws up his arms.

"Uh. So," Stiles continues, slowly, meeting Derek's eyes, "maybe you could... join us?"

"No." A flat-out rejection. Not even a moment of consideration.

"Oh." Stiles tries not to slump in disappointment. "Right. I was hoping - but I understand if you're busy, it's just... Scott would love to have you there."

"Caaaake!" Scott wriggles again. "You gotta come, Mr. Hale, you gottaaaaa!"

"Got. To," Derek corrects him, automatically, and looks trapped. In fact, Derek looks like he needs to escape this situation by any means necessary. Is it that bad, getting invited to kids' birthday parties by parents that are half-terrified of you and half-attracted to you? Then again, it must happen to Derek all the time.

"You don't, um, have to stay for the whole... thing. Just. A while, maybe? During dinner? People don't talk as much during dinner," Stiles says, and then winces, wondering why the heck he _said_ that, because -

"You're implying that I can't talk to people," Derek growls. His eyebrows are now so low, they might as well be at sea-level.

"No? No! I mean, um, I thought... you'd prefer food to conversation?" Damn. He's putting his foot deeper and deeper into his mouth, and he can't seem to stop himself.

Derek's usual glare ratchets up a notch and focuses on Stiles like the burning focal point of a magnifying glass under direct sunlight. Stiles has never felt more like an ant.

A soon-to-be-incinerated ant. An actual flush heats Stiles's neck, under his collar, as though he  _is_ being set alight. God, is his face blushing, too? How humiliating.

But then, out of nowhere, Derek says: "You're not wrong."

"Wh-what?" Stiles blinks rapidly.

"Dinner. Is more bearable. And Scott wants me there."

"Caaaaaaake," Scott all but croons, making grabby motions with his plump hands, and Derek snorts.

"But he'd prefer cake," Derek observes, not incorrectly. Scott would take cake over his own father, a top-of-the-range Gameboy and an entire Sunday afternoon of playing G.I. Joe with Isaac.

 _I'd prefer you_ and _cake_ , Stiles doesn't say.  _Preferably, licking the icing off of you, like I wanna lick that spot of paint you still have on your nose_. Stiles's throat clicks. His mouth is so dry, he isn't sure he can get a single word out. "Thanks," he croaks, finally. "That's. I'll see you there. We'll - I mean, we, as in Scott and I. Will see you. There. Seven o'clock, next Saturday. Yeah?"

Derek just heads over to his desk - his jeans are way too tight for an ass that fine - and makes a dismissive sound, like he's done with Stiles and Stiles should probably go.

"Yeah," Stiles nods to himself, hoists Scott higher on his hip and starts backing out of the classroom. He does so in order to keep that ass within sight, which would be physiologically impossible to do if he turned around to leave, and as Stiles has repeatedly discovered after being introduced to the joys of fatherhood, parents do not, unfortunately, have eyes in the backs of their heads.

"G'bye, Mr. Hale," Scott calls, cheerfully, and for just a second, Derek's shoulders relax, and his face softens. Slightly.

"Goodbye, Scott," Derek says, gravely, and Stiles tries not to gape, because that's the most polite Stiles has ever heard Derek being, to anyone.

Then again, this must be why all the kids in Derek's class have such nice manners. It's a pity Derek can't bring himself to use those manners on adults.

Stiles can think of many, many positions - er, manners - er.

Crap.

Derek doesn't wish  _Stiles_  goodbye, because apparently Stiles's adulthood makes him unworthy of common courtesy, but Stiles is relieved about that, because he couldn't have answered Derek without sounding incriminatingly hoarse, anyway.

He clutches Scott closer to him, gulps, and makes his escape.

 

* * *

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Check out [my blog](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Providence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/975683) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins), [Saucery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery)




End file.
